I never meant to be in the limelight. I never meant to become the singer in a rock band, either. It just happened that way.
When I was growing up, both of my brothers played guitar, and quite well too. By proxy, I learned everything that there was to know about amplifiers, Gibson guitars and effects pedals. “Never play a Fender,” they would always tell me, “they don’t have any power.”
The thing was, even though I tried, I could never play well. By the time I was in my teens, I was too concerned with my nails anyway. I didn’t want to break one or get calluses on my fingers.
But one thing that I could do that neither of them could (like at all) was sing. It started when I was about ten and they were banging out some classic rock hits. I knew the words to the songs so I just started singing. They both stopped and stared at me.
“Where did you learn to do that?” my oldest brother said.
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I thought that I had done something wrong so I ran into my room. But after talking to both my parents and my brothers, it was decided that I had an amazing voice and should be taking voice lessons.
Every week for seven years, I went to a vocal trainer. By the time I was seventeen, I was bored of it. It wasn’t going anywhere and I didn’t actually foresee a career in music. That was until I met Carla.
She was the director of many well-known stage plays and musicals. She was a big woman, standing at almost six feet tall. I was sure that she was a lesbian or something, but I never knew for sure.
She got me involved in a local production, which in turn brought a lot of attention my way. By the time I went off to college, my interest was renewed, but I didn’t think for a second that I would ever sing with a rock band.
In my second year of school, I was at a gig by a band that went by the terrible name of “the Mudslingers.” They were quite good, especially the guitar player. I knew how to judge sound, having been taught by my brothers, whom were both now in moderately successful groups themselves.
The lead singer, however, was atrocious. She had no presence whatsoever and she was missing notes half the time. She also seemed a little too wasted.
I saw them play again two other times but never even considered talking to them until my friend Julia set up a lunch meeting for us. I didn’t want to go, but she urged me to.
“They just want to talk,” she said.
I met them on a warm summer day in the commons, a big grassy area at school that had a couple of cafés. Their singer wasn’t with them, and they were very nice, a lot nicer than I had expected. They asked if I would audition for their band and I laughed.
“Why me?” I said. “I’m not a rock star.”
“Well, for one, Julia says that you have an amazing voice,” said the cute guitarist. His name was Rodger and he had a lilting English accent.
“And you look amazing,” the drummer added. His name was Kyle, and he was very Californian.
“What about your singer?” I asked.
“She’s out. We dumped her. She’s off her head half the time and it’s just getting worse. It’s okay to party a little—we all do,” Kyle said, and they all nodded in assent. “But she was out of control.”
“Yeah, come on, just try,” said Eric, the bass player.
“Okay…” I replied. “I’ll try. But do you guys actually make any money? And… what’s with that horrible name?”
They all looked at me blankly, then started laughing. Yes, they made some money, not loads “yet,” they said, but soon they would be huge, especially if I joined them. And the name, well, that was a last minute afterthought one night when they were drunk and talking about all the music media magazines that wrote shit about bands, even the good ones.
Not long after our meeting, “Ninth Quarter” was born. It came to us after a night of partying, just like their last name had. We had partied on so long after a practice session that someone said that we were almost at the end of the ninth quarter. No one could even remember who said it, but it stuck.
Over the course of a year, we played at every college on the west coast and had built up a massive following. The month that I turned twenty, we were offered a record deal and a sixty-one show tour that included eleven dates as a support act for one of my brother’s all time favorite rock bands. I had to decide if I would even go back to school in the fall, which I didn’t, but that’s another story.
We were in the studio for a solid month before the tour started. It was amazing working with guys who really cared about what they were doing. By the time the album was finished, we were so ready to get back out and play again that we could almost taste it.
We had played shows for a thousand people loads of times, but our first show in Spokane, Washington was in front of almost thirty-five thousand as a support band for Chemical Sanity. I had never been so nervous in my life.
After the gig, their lead singer told me that I was amazing and had more personality than the entire crowd put together. He also asked me if I wanted to fuck.
That was life on the road: other bands partying with you, countless offers of sex and often endless hours in a tour bus, with most of the guys toting along a girl that they had only met the night before. There were always drugs and drinks and lots of sex. I was a little uncomfortable with it at first and pretty much stayed out of it.
But then one day, it all changed.
We were playing a headline show in Sacramento. We had been on tour for almost a month already and not only had I not gotten laid in ages, but I was feeling a little down because I felt like I had not seen more than the inside of a hotel room since springtime. My big brother was going to come see me play for the first time too, but canceled at the last minute as he couldn’t get away from his job in San Francisco.
We had just set into our second song of the set, a power balled called What You Want, when I noticed what may have been the sexist guy I had ever laid eyes on. I would have guessed that he was just over six feet tall and had a look somewhere between Slavic and Nordic (I had, after all, taken anthropology classes at college), and he had the most amazing tattoo running from his back over his shoulder and snaking down to his belly button. I could see it because he had his shirt off. Kings Arena was jam packed and it was hot inside, and I myself was dripping.
The moment I went into the chorus of What You Want, we locked eyes. The sensation was intense and I nearly forgot the next line of the song. I knew there and then that I had to have this guy. For the first time ever, I felt the intense power that I had over our male fans.
In any given show, Rodger wouldn’t hesitate to point out a girl from the audience to our trusty stage guys and have her brought up in the wings to watch the show. She would be given an all-access pass, treated to all the goodies the band got, and then fucked and forgotten as we moved on to another town. Sometimes one came with us for one or two dates if she was exceptional, but would always be sent home eventually.
Throughout the show, mystery man and I exchanged glances. But when you preform in front of thousands of people, you need to spread the energy.
Just before our last encore, I looked at him again. His rippled body was covered with sweat, he had one hand in the air and he was calling my name. I just did it. I motioned to Craig, the head stage manager, and had my new toy brought up on stage.
His face was precious, and suddenly I felt like some kind of big star. The whole thing, to be quite honest, had happened so fast that it still felt surreal. I was about to start acting like the rock star that I had become. Yes, I had already indulged in the partying, but now I was about to use my status for sex.
As I sang the final lines of the last encore, my panties began to get soaking wet, knowing that I was about to get laid by a complete stranger. It was both exhilarating and frightening at the same time.
We all ran off the stage after the last song and were herded into the green room. There was champagne, food and a variety of booze. There were already people gathered there, various tour hangers-on and celebrities. As usual, it was madness and everyone was still feeling the adrenaline rush.
My boy showed up five minutes later, escorted by security. His shirt was back on and around his neck was a backstage pass.
The first hour or so after any show is always chaos. Everyone is coming down off of a huge high while lots of people are trying to talk to you. My new guy went around the room talking to all the band members, saying how great we were and all, but didn’t come near me. I think he was just too shy. I finally walked straight up to him.
“I’m Ellie,” I said holding out my hand, “but you already know that.”
“You were fucking amazing. I love your voice,” he said.
I had heard all the praises before and I knew how people thought that you were somehow larger than life, so I was just straightforward with him.
“Wanna get out of here and go party with me?” I said.
While he had made it this far, to the inner sanctum backstage, I don’t think he ever really believed that he would be getting into my panties. His eyes bulged.
“Hell yeah,” he said a little too loudly.
“Come on, let’s go,” I said, and took his hand, guiding him to the door.
As I left, the other members of my band saw what was happening and all started applauding. The various riff-raff in the green room joined in, but only because the band had and they thought that they were supposed to.
Outside the party room was our stage manager. He made a quick call on the radio to arrange a ride for me to the hotel. He didn’t bat an eyelash when he saw that I had a guy with me. The boys from the band brought girls all the time.
“I’m Andy,” he finally said on the way there. “Sorry I didn’t mention that earlier.”
“Hey, all the excitement, I know how it is,” I replied.
“Yeah, wow, what an intense life. Where are you guys playing next?”
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I didn’t even know the answer to that one, but I knew that we had three days before we had to travel again. That meant it was probably somewhere out west. Booking dates were set up in a way that often left us crisscrossing the country.
“We have some time,” I said, and that was the end of it. We pulled up to the hotel moments later. The venue hadn’t been very far.
“Wow, awesome,” he said, looking up at the towering building.
We were in one of the nicer places. Sometimes we had six shows in one week, so we would stay in the closest place to the venue, but this one was a Hilton.
We walked up to the room together. “Come on in,” I said, opening the door. “Make yourself a drink if you want one. I desperately need a shower.”
I dropped everything, went to the bathroom and got out of my clothes. The warm water felt nice. When I came out, he was standing there, looking lost.
“You too,” I said, wrapped in nothing but a towel “Go on, have a shower.”
This was all new to me, but it was even newer to him. Rock stars don’t just take you back to the hotel and fuck you every day. And this was the reverse version. I knew he lusted after me; it was clear in that look he’d given me while I was on stage. And I wanted him, too.
When he came out of the shower, I was naked, a drink in my hand.
“So, do you wanna fuck me?” I said. He had nothing but a towel around him and the tattoo looked amazing in the dim light.
“Are you kidding?” he asked, and dropped the towel.
He had an epic cock, half swollen already from knowing what the prize was. It was nicely sized with a huge mushroom-shaped head.
“Don’t think of me as the lead singer of Ninth Quarter,” I said. “Tonight I’m just Ellie from San Jose.”
“I would prefer to fuck Ellie Manson from Ninth Quarter, if that’s okay,” he said, and crossed the short distance between us. I was so unprepared for it that I almost spilled my drink.
“I really need a good fuck,” I said, not believing that I had uttered the words.
“I hope I don’t disappoint,” he replied, slipping a hand between my legs. “Anything special you want me to do?”
At first I didn’t understand the question, but then it dawned on me. He thought that I did this kind of thing all the time. That was my image. I was the powerful, sexy rock bitch. My songs reeked of sex. He wanted to know how I wanted to be fucked. I was in charge here; I could ask for anything I wanted.
“Eat me,” I said, getting onto all fours on the bed and spreading my legs. I had loved it when and ex of mine had done that to me. “Eat my pussy and ass.”
He didn’t hesitate for a second. He was on his knees with his mouth working my already swollen pussy lips in seconds. He tongue fucked my ass every time I told him to.
“Oh yeah, fuck yeah… eat my ass, make me cum,” I said, really getting into it.
He grabbed my hips and drove his face deeper, pushing me right to the edge of an orgasm.
“Now fuck me,” I panted, hoping that he was ready.
He stood up and his cock slipped right into me. I was wet and ready for him as I opened up for his throbbing cock. I may have been in control at first, but no matter what anyone will ever tell you, once you get cock in you, you go a little weak.
“Fuck yeah,” I cried. “Fuck me like a slut!”
I wanted his fantasy version of me to be real, and that was exactly how it felt at the moment. He pounded away, his balls slapping against my clit with every stroke. I came hard, squirming all over his throbbing shaft before I told him that I had to suck his cock.
I pulled away and spun around, facing his stiff shaft. It was dripping precum and all shiny with my juices. I leaned forward and took as much of it as I could into my mouth. When it hit the back of my throat I gagged a little, but didn’t hesitate to keep it there.
“Slow down, you’ll make me cum like that,” he said. “You’re incredible.”
I pulled his cock out of my throat and looked up at him. I figured that he would be fun to play with for a while and that I should keep him for a bit. Besides, it would be nice to have a drink and just relax.
“You gotta be somewhere soon?” I asked him.
“Are you a one-time shooter and then that’s it?”
“No,” he said slowly, clearly wondering where I was going with this.
“So cum,” I said, and went back to work on his cock.
I took his balls and cupped them in one hand while my other worked his shaft in tandem with my mouth. It was slippery and wet, all covered with my pussy cream and saliva.
In only a minute, he was cumming in my mouth. I was unprepared for the amount and coughed and sputtered a little. He tried to apologize, but I just pushed him in further, savoring the flavor of every gooey blast of semen.
When he was finally spent after what seemed like half a pint of cum, I released his cock and let the spunk drip down my lips.
“God, you are seriously fucking dirty,” he murmured as one last rope dribbled down his cock.
“You have no idea,” I said, fully playing the part of filthy rock queen.
I was dirty; I always had been. Between the end of high school and my two years at college, I had been part of threesomes and girl/girl play. I tried whatever interested me, the product of very liberal-thinking parents.
But since going on the road, I hadn’t had any sex at all. I had no trouble separating love from sex, but I just hadn’t seen the right opportunity until Andy.
That night, we partied and fucked four more times until I was absolutely exhausted and told him to get a taxi home. He fucked me standing on the balcony, in the shower, spread-eagled on the big sofa, and then once more on the bed. I rode his face and made him eat me constantly. I gave him a night that he would not only remember forever, but also brag to all his friends about.
More than once, members of the band came by and knocked on the door, asking me to come party, but I knew that they were really just checking to see if I was still at it.
I met up with them all the following evening, having slept almost 10 hours. I was fully prepared for the teasing that I would get. The tour virgin had lost her cherry and all that, but it was all good natured.
The weird thing was that Eric, our bassist, didn’t join in the fun. That was when I became 100% sure that he had a thing for me. I had never seen it before and I wasn’t about to get involved with anyone in the band. That often spelled instant disaster for groups, though some like Fleetwood Mac managed through it.
By the time our tour bus rolled away from Sacramento that Tuesday morning, we had all recovered and even had a bit of time to see the city, not that there was all that much there. But we were all feeling good and ready for the show in San Diego that evening.
I was more than ready. I was going to use my newfound power again on some unsuspecting fan. I knew that we would be leaving the morning after that for Tulsa, so I would have to make it a quick one, or take him with me on the road. Being the only girl, I had a tiny little room to myself on the bus.
After my adventures in Sacramento I began to notice just how many gorgeous guys in the audience were screaming for my attention. I’d never really noticed before because I was concentrating so hard on the music. Suddenly I felt much more sexual and powerful; suddenly I actually was that sultry rock singer that the music magazines had started writing about.
The guy that I picked in San Diego was a disaster. He was a little too high and a lot too nervous. We ended up partying a bit together and I kissed him and sent him on his way, telling him that it was all okay. But I envied my band mates. Guys don’t have to worry about if the girl they pick can get it up or not.
San Diego to Tulsa was nearly twenty-five hours on the road, with breaks along the way, and I wished that I had found a guy to come with me. All of a sudden I liked my newfound pleasures.
I slept a good part of the way but the drone of the bus on the road makes your mind wander and it does get pretty boring. By the time we arrived it was already around noon on the day of the show, and we would be leaving again for Kansas City the next morning. Thankfully, that wasn’t too far.
The show that night was spectacular. Our lighting guys and the tech team had everything perfect. The band was as tight as we had ever been. When I sang One More Time to Remember Me, the crowd went crazy.
Eric invited six girls up on the stage to dance and then hang out with us after. They were all cute Midwestern girls full of innocence and wonder. I wasn’t sure if he was trying to make me jealous, but it was silly.
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In the green room, there were more people than usual. All of the guys had grabbed what they called “easy Midwest girls” and the six that Eric invited were there too. There were three rock magazine reporters, five photographers, and a few local celebrities as well.
In Kansas, we would be playing with Chemical Sanity again at the Starlight Theater. It was a smaller, more intimate venue for a band that big, so there was a lot of interest in us too. That and we just had our first single hit the top 20 in the rock charts.
“You’re Ellie, right?”
I looked up and there were two very pretty girls standing in front of me. It occurred to me that they were part of the group that Eric had brought here.
“Yeah,” I said. “Hi.”
“I’m Alice, and this is Cindy. We absolutely love you.”
Aside from the fact that one was blonde and one was brunette, they could have been sisters. But I knew they weren’t. They were just star-struck girls, probably nineteen or twenty.
“Is it true?” Cindy, the brunette, asked me.
“Is what true?” I said, offering them a place to sit on the big plush sofa. A guy was walking around with champagne and we all took some.
“That you party harder than the boys. That you choose any guy… or girl… that you want and sleep with them?”
The music magazines and the press wrote anything they thought would get attention. It was a part of what made rock bands so big. Our manager probably encouraged it, too.
“Is that what the music rags are saying about me?” I asked.
“Yes,” they said, nearly in unison.
“Then it must be true!” I replied. I didn’t want to ruin their fantasy.
“That must be awesome, having power like that over guys,” Alice said.
I hadn’t really considered how awesome it was, but they were right.
“We’re both bi, if you want us too,” Cindy said suddenly. Alice slapped her on the arm.
The statement took me so completely by surprise that I didn’t know what to say. It had never even occurred to me that I might be a girl’s fantasy, also.
The girls both started to get up, Alice apologizing on behalf of her friend.
“Sorry, Ellie, we didn’t mean to…”
“Hey, wait. You guys want to come to my room and party?”
It was a whim, something I just blurted out. Even if we just hung out it would be better than trying to sleep or partying in this little room for hours. They both stopped dead in their tracks.
“Really?” Alice said.
“Really,” I answered. “Come on, let’s go.”
I walked over to Rodger and told him that I would be partying with my new friends in my room and that he could come by if he wanted. He said that since the photos were all done he might drop by later. I knew that he wouldn’t, as he had a local model draped on his arm.
The hotel was less than a quarter of a mile away, but again we had to be driven. It wouldn’t do to be walking across a huge empty parking lot with stragglers from the show looking for where they left their car.
When I walked past the concierge with two girls to take the elevator, both receptionists raised their eyebrows. Everyone knew who I was. I figured that this would just add to the legend.
I had no clear idea why I had brought these two back to my room other than to party a little. All the compliments they showered me with were nice, and they seemed like genuine fans expressing their admiration.
“I have some ecstasy,” Alice said, and they both looked at me.
Now, that was absolutely my drug of choice, not that I did lots. Not any more than any other twenty-year-old rock singer, anyway. But it was one that I found hard to turn down.
“Now that sounds like a plan,” I said.
There was a complimentary bottle of champagne in the room along with a big fruit basket, so we crushed up the X and mixed it with strawberries in bubbly. It was all very girly.
Forty-five minutes later, we were all giggling like schoolgirls—in fact, we practically were. These girls were not all that much younger than me and as we relaxed, I saw that they were not just silly groupies, but bored girls living in a town that the both wanted to escape from. To them, I was proof that it could happen.
Suddenly Alice and Cindy were kissing. It wasn’t like we were talking about sex or anything; it just happened. Then they both looked at me.
“Go ahead, you two. Don’t mind me. I’ll watch.”
Ecstasy always made me horny anyway, and the thought of watching these two make out was getting me wet. It didn’t take long before both of them had stripped down to their bras and panties. I knew that they wanted me to join them, but I wasn’t ready (or high enough) for an all-girl threesome.
I watched as Cindy slowly pulled off Alice’s panties, using her mouth and fingers to make her cum. They kept looking over at me and I was constantly trying to stifle a giggle. Not because it was funny; I was just high. It often looked like they were asking for my approval.
Then it was Alice’s turn to work on Cindy. I was horny and wet, my nipples pushing hard against the fabric of my little bra. By the time both of them looked over again, I had my pants off and my knees drawn up with my legs open. With one hand, I pushed against my clit.
“What do you want us to do?” Cindy asked. It seemed like everyone was always asking what I wanted.
“Sixty-nine, please, so I can watch.”
They did exactly as I asked, really getting into it, grunting and slurping at each other’s wet pussies. I watched both of them cum half a dozen times before I finally pulled my top and panties off and began to masturbate. I was so slick that my fingers slipped right in. The girls watched a little, but were very into what they were doing. I realized that they were doing this for me.
“Eat me,” I finally said, wanting the feel of a mouth on my swollen clit.
“Who?” both of them asked. Their faces were shimmering with girl cum.
“You first. Take turns,” I said, pointing at Cindy.
While Cindy got on her hands and knees to lick me, Alice got behind her in and started to eat her from behind—my favorite position. They both kept looking up at me as if for assurance.
“Your turn,” I said to Alice. Cindy was not all that talented at what she was doing.
Alice, on the other hand, was, and she had me on the verge of an orgasm in minutes. Cindy sat watching, slowly fingering herself. When I was about to cum, I grabbed Alice’s hair and ground my gaping pussy into her mouth.
I was breathing hard, partly from the intensity of what we’d just done, but also from the effects of the drug. Now that I had cum, I felt weird still having them in my room. This wasn’t going to go on any longer and I wasn’t about to do anything to them. If it had been just one of them, I might have. But not two.
“I have to shower and change,” I said. “The bus leaves in a couple of hours.”
I lied a little, but I needed some sleep too.
They dressed quickly, as though I had told them to just leave. They were a little in awe of me, I think.
“Ellie…” Alice said before they went out the door. “Can I have… an autograph?”
I started laughing. It was so cute. I had just cum in this girl’s face and she wanted an autograph.
I signed one for each of them that said, “Really enjoyed our night. Love, Ellie.” That would be enough so that their friends would half believe their tale.
I had a shower and crawled into bed, still a little high from my earlier antics. Tomorrow I would be somewhere else, seducing God knows who. The adventure was just starting and I was ready for just about anything.